


The Nectar of the Gods

by I_have_a_Mycroft_of_my_very_own



Series: Barduil [20]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Coffee addict Bard, Coffee makes elves drunk, Drunk Thranduil, I am supposed to be sleeping right now, Oops, but I wrote this dumb thing instead, but Thran is apparently a bit of a sad drunk, none of them know this yet, oopsy, was supposed to be a cute little thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:08:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24304927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_have_a_Mycroft_of_my_very_own/pseuds/I_have_a_Mycroft_of_my_very_own
Summary: In which Humanity runs on coffee, a fact Thranduil learns the first time Bard stays in MirkwoodOrIn which coffee makes elves drunk, who knew?
Relationships: Bard the Bowman/Thranduil, Referenced Beren Erchamion/Luthien Tinuviel
Series: Barduil [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/267661
Comments: 2
Kudos: 76





	The Nectar of the Gods

**Author's Note:**

> Just assume someone rescued some coffee beans when Lake Town was burning, and harvesting was one of the 'important tasks' completed after the BOFA... :P

The first time Bard visits Mirkwood, Thranduil doesn’t honestly expect anything to be different. Bard is not a morning person and, as far as Thranduil can tell, has _never_ been one, but once he’s eaten his breakfast and gotten himself ready for the day, he’s normally pleasant to be around once again.

Not so the first time he visits Mirkwood.

“Good morning, meleth.” Thranduil greets, a happy smile on his face as he listens to the forest waking up outside his window. Bard grumbles and buries his head under his pillow, Thranduil simply laughs and leaves him to it, rolling himself out of bed to go and get ready to face the day.

Only, he meets back up with Bard for breakfast, the two of them sitting in the Great Hall, Thranduil’s people happily chattering all around them, but Bard is grumpier than Thranduil thinks he’s ever seen him. His head resting on the table in front of him and his food untouched beside him.

“Bard?” Thranduil queries, something a little like worry nagging in the back of his mind. His only response is a groan. “What’s wrong?”

“Coffee!” Bard mumbles into the wood of the table, Thranduil frowns in confusion.

“Coffee?” Thranduil queries, sounding out the unfamiliar word, trying to determine if he’s ever heard it before. Beside him, Bard’s entire body goes still.

“Please tell me you know what coffee is?” Bard pleads, the first time Thranduil has ever heard him beg for anything.

“Describe it.” Thranduil demands, deciding that whatever this coffee thing is, it’s obviously important.

“Little brown beans that you get from a plant. You roast and then ground the beans and put the powder in hot water and it makes the nectar of the gods!” Bard describes, Thranduil blinks at him in confusion and Bard whimpers.

“I do not know this bean.” Thranduil finally says, wincing when Bard let’s out a sad little noise. “Is it important?”

“It is, honestly, the only reason I get out of bed in the morning.” Bard replies, still talking to the table and apparently not ready to change that any time soon.

“I’m sorry we don’t have any, Bard.” Thranduil consoles, wondering what is so wonderful about this ‘coffee’ that it leaves Bard in tears at its absence. For, he’s absolutely certain that he can see tears in the corner of Bard’s closed eye.

“Do you have tea? You have to have tea, right?” Bard asks, something a little like cautious hope and dejection in his voice.

“Of course, we have tea!” Thranduil exclaims, mildly offended. “What kind of place do you think I am keeping here?”

“Well, forgive me, your greatest majesty, but you don’t have _coffee,_ how was I supposed to know you think _tea_ is important?” Bard snarks at him, all without lifting his head from the table. “Where is the tea?”

“In the Healing Halls, of course. It’s medicine.” Thranduil replies, exasperated and still mildly concerned when Bard moans into the table. “Bard, I am very concerned for you.”

“I’m going back to bed.” Bard mutters, pushing himself up from the table and stumbling out of the room. Thranduil following after him, his concern growing with every step.

“Bard? Are you sick? Do you need to see a healer?” Thranduil queries, keeping his voice low, when he notes how the human keeps flinching away from the bright lights that line the halls, and the sudden laughter of Thranduil’s people as they go about their morning. He’s more than just a little worried now.

“’m fine.” Bard mumbles, pressing a hand to his head. “Go enjoy your day.” The human grumbles, disappearing into Thranduil’s room, Thranduil frowns and follows him through the door, finds the human has collapsed face down on the bed, his arms tucked against his sides.

“I’ll send for one of the healers.” Thranduil decides, turning on his heel.

“’m fine.” Bard insists, even though he hasn’t moved an inch when Thranduil turns to look. “Jus’ nee’ coffee.” He mumbles, snuggling his face against the pillows. “Mmm, coffee.” He mutters and Thranduil is astounded to watch the human fall asleep within moments.

He sends the healer in, anyway.

* * *

“I don’t really know what to tell you, aran.” Head healer Lindariel states, looking at the sleeping human before them. “He doesn’t have a fever, or a cough, and he’s not been injured. I don’t know much of human illnesses, but perhaps he caught something before he arrived here?”

“He was complaining about coffee, before. Have you heard of it?” Thranduil asks, looking down at his human lover with open concern. “I’m very worried for him.”

“I’ve not heard of this coffee. What is it?” Lindariel queries, cocking her head to the side in curiosity.

“It’s apparently a bean grown from a plant, the humans roast it and grind it into powder, that they mix with hot water and it apparently makes some sort of ‘divine’ beverage.” Thranduil replies, turning to his healer to see if she has any knowledge, but the curiosity on her face doesn’t diminish.

“I’ve not heard of this. I will investigate.”

“He also asked about tea? Could we give him some?” Thranduil queries, resisting the temptation to bite on his lower lip.

“I will prepare some for him.” Lindariel decides, before moving off to do so, already lost in thoughts about where she might find information about ‘coffee’.

Thranduil sighs, looks once more at Bard, then turns to go and do his kingly duties for the day, he’s already put them off long enough.

* * *

Bard appears at lunch; he’s clutching a teapot and a mug like they are the most precious things on the earth when Thranduil sinks down beside him at the table.

“You’re looking a lot better.” Thranduil says, feeling better for it.

“Tea really is a wonderful medicine.” Bard replies, smiling at Thranduil, though it looks a little crazed and now that Thranduil’s sitting beside him, he can see that Bard’s hands are shaking.

“Bard, how much tea have you had today?” Thranduil queries, suddenly concerned for a whole different reason.

“I think this is my eighth cup.” The human replies, frowning at him. “Why?”

“I think you shouldn’t have anymore.” Thranduil says gently, reaching forward to try and take the teapot away, but Bard just grips it tighter.

“No, I _need_ it.”

“Bard-“

“You don’t have coffee!” Bard exclaims, lifting the mug to his lips and downing the contents in one go. “This is the only alternative, so I’m drinking it.”

“If I can find some coffee for you, will you stop drinking the tea?” Thranduil asks, resting his hand over Bard’s, when the man tries to pour himself another mug full.

“Yes.”

“Alright, I will try to get some coffee for you, in the meantime, maybe you should eat lunch and then go and rest? You’re probably still tired from yesterday.” Thranduil coaxes, pushing just a little of his power into his words, sees the fog that forms in Bard’s eyes.

“Yes, I think that’s a good idea.” The Dragonslayer agrees, putting down both the teapot and the mug and reaching for his plate instead. Thranduil watches him eat, picking at his own food as he does so. Then, when the bell rings to signify the end of the meal, Thranduil walks Bard back to bed. Then, he goes and sends someone to Dale, to find out about ‘coffee’ and bring some back, if at all possible.

Bard doesn’t meet him for dinner.

* * *

Thranduil is woken in the very early hours of the morning, or the very late hours of the night, depending on your point of view, by Galion. He looks at his sleeping human, before quietly rolling out of bed and going to meet his friend in the living space outside his room.

“What’s happened?” Thranduil asks, wrapping his gown around him in the slight chill.

“Meludir returned with coffee.” Galion explains, an amused smile on his face. “Apparently, humanity runs on coffee.”

“I’m sorry?” Thranduil exclaims, blinking at his oldest friend, who just laughs.

“The people of Dale would like you to know that they consider it an act of war to withhold coffee from them. They will forgive you for this offense against their king in this instance, but they warn you that you are on thin ice.” Galion dutifully imparts the message while Thranduil just stares at him in stupefaction.

“But what is it?”

“I don’t rightly know. Did you want to go and try some? Meludir has been crowing about it since he came back. He and the off-shift guards are in the wine cellar trying it out since the humans showed him how to make it.”

“Let’s go!”

* * *

Descending the stairs down into the dungeons, they both pause, closing their eyes and inhaling a rich and nutty aroma. Thranduil vaguely remembers having smelt this at various times throughout his dealings with men, but he’s never figured out what caused the smell. Obviously, it’s whatever this ‘coffee’ is.

He and Galion continue to follow the smell, to find the off-shift home guard all gathered around a pot resting on the table, the aroma wafting from it. He shares a look with Galion, before they both cross to peer into the pot, staring into a black liquid within.

“Is it… safe to drink?” Thranduil asks, perplexed as to how the drink can smell so lovely and look so unappetising.

“It is very safe to drink, so long as you do not drink in excess.” Meludir helpfully replies, though Thranduil notes his legs are jingling up and down, like he cannot keep them still.

“How much have you had to drink Meludir?” Thranduil queries, reminded of Bard at the lunch table.

“Four cups so far!” Meludir helpfully tells him, a giant smile on his face. “It’s very, very yummy!”

“Why did we send the lightweight to fetch the mystery beverage?” Thranduil queries the room at large, no one has an answer for him, so he sighs and turns his eyes back to the liquid in the pot. “Very well, since Meludir has already attested that the drink is not poison, someone pour me a mug.” Feren is the one who moves, grabbing down a mug and placing filter paper over the top, then pouring the liquid in. They all stare at the black grounds left on the filter paper, that Feren carefully takes from the mug. Feren slides the mug across to Thranduil and joins the others in looking at him with expectant eyes.

“Mellon nin, are you sure?” Galion queries, anxiously shifting from one foot to the other. “Perhaps I should-“ but his oldest friend doesn’t get to finish his statement, before Thranduil is lifting the mug to his lips and sipping it. He can’t quite help the face he makes at the bitterness, but there’s a rich earthy taste to it that he thinks he might like.

“Hmm.” Is the only audible reaction he gives to his audience, before taking a few more mouthfuls of the drink, debating its taste, still undecided after those few mouthfuls. “I don’t feel different.”

“Just wait!” Meludir helpfully exclaims, smiling at him. “I feel like I’ve spent the entire day eating sugary treats!”

“Oh, _good_. We definitely wanted to be drinking this while we’re supposed to be sleeping!” Thranduil huffs, but it doesn’t stop him from taking another sip. They all patiently watch him drink his coffee, he wonders if this is how the poison tester feels and decides that should he ever need another poison tester, he will ensure they are well cared for.

It’s about ten minutes after drinking the cup that he feels the tingling in his fingers and feels the exhaustion from the day falling away from him, until he’s smiling with wide eyed excitement, feeling like he’s just had a long, refreshing nap.

“Oh.” He exclaims, looking into the pot, from which the others haven’t been brave enough to try any yet. “I’m not getting any further sleep tonight.” He announces to no one in particular and goes to sit beside Meludir, watching the others with expectant eyes. “Well, go on then! Try it!”

None of them make it to bed that night.

* * *

“Bard! Wake up! _Bard!_ ” Thranduil exclaims, bouncing on the balls of his feet while he tries to rouse his human from slumber. He hasn’t felt this light on his feet since he was at most Legolas’ age. His heart is racing in his chest, so fast he thinks it might be unhealthy, but he hasn’t had the presence of mind to focus on it, because he’s too busy feeling like he’s going to vibrate out of his own skin. “Bard!” His human grumbles and rolls over in bed. “I found your coffee!” Thranduil excitedly tells him, doesn’t expect Bard to shoot up from the bed and stumble towards him on unsteady legs.

“Coffee?”

“Yes, coffee!” Thranduil agrees, grinning wide. “Come!” he snags Bard’s wrist and drags the human to the door, but the moment it’s open, Bard is off running, following the heavenly smell that’s wafting through the halls. Thranduil laughs behind him, the sound so delighted to his own ears, the way his laughter hasn’t been for many, many thousands of years now. He chases after his lover through the halls, his laughter drifting off the walls as his people stop in shock to watch them go. He doesn’t care that he’s being undignified. He doesn’t care that he’s running through his halls, laughing with wild abandon the way his people here have never seen him.

All that he cares about is ensuring his Bard finds the coffee because Bard is right. It _is_ nectar of the gods and he can’t believe no one has told him about it before!

* * *

“How much coffee have you had?” Bard asks, sounding a lot more awake and happier than he has since he went to bed the night he arrived.

“The Off-shift and I spent the night and most of the morning drinking it.” Thranduil answers, his eyes closed as he happily sways back and forward on his stool down in the wine cellar. He wonders if this is how humans feel when they’re drunk, it’s an experience he’s never actually had in his life, because it’s so _hard_ for elves to get drunk. They’re more likely to grow bored of drinking than to ever drink enough for the beverage to really affect them more than a tingling in their fingers and an extreme feeling of tiredness. “I think I’ve had maybe ten cups!”

“Don’t drink anymore.” Bard warns, Thranduil frowns, opening one eye to look at the human. “Overdose can be fatal.”

“Mmm, alright.” Thranduil agrees, letting his eye slip closed again as he resumes his swaying.

“Coffee makes elves drunk. That’s interesting.” Bard mutters, Thranduil just hums back at him. If this is what it feels like to be drunk, he _likes_ it. It’s _blissful_.

“I’m not being a king today.” He announces to Bard, like it’s some great secret, he hears Bard chuckle but doesn’t open his eyes.

“No, I don’t think that would go well for anyone if you tried.” Bard agrees, Thranduil hums happily. “We should probably get you to bed, before you get to the emotional portion of intoxication.”

“Oh?”

“When did you have your last cup?” Bard queries, Thranduil hears him setting down his mug on the table, but still doesn’t open his eyes.

“Before I came and got you.” He answers, though his words seem to slur together and he frowns in surprise.

“Alright, let’s go put an elf-king to bed.” Bard coaxes, Thranduil jumps a little when he feels hands on his arms. “It’s just me.” Bard soothes and Thranduil collapses against him, suddenly feeling boneless and weightless, like he could just float up and join the stars in the sky.

“What is happening?” he asks, but he knows the words don’t come out sounding how he thinks they should. “Bard?”

“You’re drunk.” Bard explains, grunting as he scoops Thranduil up into his arms. Thranduil hasn’t been carried like this, when he hasn’t been injured, since he was an elfling. He’s not sure if he likes this drunk feeling anymore.

“Bard?”

“It’s alright. You’ll be fine in a few hours, I promise.” Bard soothes him, as he carries him back through the halls. In the back of his mind, Thranduil realizes that his people will be watching this too, but he doesn’t have the focus to care, snuggling against Bard and letting his head loll. The world seems to spin, but he’s certain he hasn’t opened his eyes in a while so he doesn’t know how the world could possibly be spinning when he can’t see it doing it.

“Bard?”

“I’m still here.” Bard assures him, his voice gentle and far away, Thranduil relaxes at the sound of it.

“I love you.” He says, his mouth now apparently having a mind of its own. “I know you doubt that sometimes, but I really, really, really love you, lots and lots and lots.” He promises, feeling a little like a child as he says the words, but his childhood was some of the happiest years of his life, so he doesn’t mind. Luthien had been there, his beautiful and bubbly cousin, who fell in love with a mortal. He hadn’t seen what all the rage was about with Beren, but Luthien had promised him he’d love a mortal someday, too, and then he’d understand. He’d laughed when she’d said that but look at him now.

“I love you, too.” Bard replies, pressing a kiss to his forehead, then Thranduil feels himself being laid down on something soft and Bard’s pulling away.

“No!” Thranduil exclaims, blindly reaching for his human, his eyes refusing to open, even as his questing hands find Bard’s wrist and hold tight. “No, no, don’t leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Thranduil. I’m just getting you a glass of water.” Bard promises, but all Thranduil knows is that his heart is suddenly beating too quickly in his ears and he feels a fear so great he thinks he might be sick of it. “Hey, I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

“Everyone always leaves and then it’s just me.” He mumbles, deciding that he very much _hates_ this being drunk thing, doesn’t like it at all and would prefer never to feel this way again. “They make me love them and then they just… _poof_ … **_gone_**. I don’t want you to go, too, but you will, because you’re human, like Beren and I don’t know if I’m strong like Luthien. She was so strong. The strongest.” His strong cousin, his first friend in the world, his lovely cousin and she’s gone, gone, gone, gone, **_gone_**.

“You’re the strongest person I know, Thranduil.”

“Even if I am strong like her, I can’t be mortal. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.” he repeats over and over again, his mind stuck on the words.

“No one is asking you to be mortal.” Bard’s voice cuts through the litany and he gasps in startled surprise, Bard takes the moment to free his arm, but before Thranduil can react, he finds his human’s warmth pressed up against him, his arms around Thranduil and pulling him close, holding him tight. “No one is asking you to be anything more or less than who and what you are.”

“You’re gonna leave me.”

“One day, yes.”

“I don’t want you to go.” He exclaims, turning in Bard’s arms and clinging tight to his clothing, tucking his face into Bard’s neck as his breaths shake over his lips, the tears burning in his eyes. “ _I love you._ Don’t leave me. _Don’t go_.”

“I’ll stay as long as I can, I promise.”

“Don’t go.” His voice cracks and the sobs are quick and so encompassing, the fear and grief he feels so overwhelming he can’t do anything but give in, sobbing and pleading and clinging to Bard like he is the only thing in this world that matters. He feels his energy fleeing him all to quickly and with one last desperate plea, falls into a thick and heavy darkness.

* * *

The world is too bright and too loud and too obnoxiously happy when Thranduil wakes in the morning. His head feels like an entire mountain of dwarves have moved in and are trying to chip open his skull. He moans and rolls over, so his face is in the mattress, as he pulls the pillow up over the back of his head. He hears a familiar chuckle beside him and moans again.

“Come on, you need to drink some water and eat something.” Bard coaxes, but Thranduil just groans at him. “Are you really going to let a hangover be what defeats you?” the human teases, Thranduil snarls and pushes himself up to sit and glare at his lover, who holds out a glass of water, unfazed with a stupid grin on his face. Thranduil snatches the glass from his hand and gulps it down in one go. “Good, now you can have some Hair of the Dog.” Bard tells him, Thranduil just blinks at him stupidly, but his human doesn’t seem inclined to explain.

“What is that?” he finally demands, glaring again. Bard smirks, and takes the empty glass from him, turning to place it on the bedside table on Bard’s side, before grabbing a mug of a familiar smelling substance. Thranduil pulls away a little but Bard just laughs.

“It’s Hair of the Dog. You drink more of what you had the night before, to ease the hangover.” Bard explains, holding out the mug again. Thranduil glares at it. “The hangover being the headache and all the other wonderful things happening to you right now.”

“Fine.” Thranduil grumbles, grabbing the mug and downing the coffee. It doesn’t take too long before he starts to feel a little better. “Now what?”

“Now you spend the day drinking water and eating.” Bard answers, grinning and climbing from the bed. “Come along, love! You put off being a king yesterday, you don’t get to put off being a king today, even if you’d like to. This is what you put me through every single damn time you kept giving me wine before and after the BOFA. This is payback.” Bard cheerfully announces, laughing when Thranduil lobs a pillow at him.

“Being drunk is _horrible_!” Thranduil whines, before forcing himself to get out of bed, even though he doesn’t want to. “Never drinking coffee again!” he promises himself, not realizing the lie he has just uttered.

Bard does not speak of any of what Thranduil said while under the influence that night, and Thranduil never remembers saying any of it.

Thus, Mirkwood becomes the first Elven Realm to discover just how stupid they can be while under the influence. They are not the last.


End file.
